The Legacy of Odrapple
by Scarlet Electra
Summary: An OrangexDracoxApple oneshot. Apple waited for hours for Draco to arrive for their date. But there was no sign of him. Where was he? What was he doing? Rated T to be safe and for slight gore.


**A/N- An OrangexDracoxApple pairing, dedicated to my friend Tracy for her Birthday.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. But Apple and Orange? They're mine.**

~The Legacy of Odrapple~

The night was menacing. The air was still and stagnant. Wind seeped in languidly from the cracked window, causing goose bumps to caress Apple's flushed skin. The floor he walked upon was cold and unforgiving. Outside, he could spy a great army of raindrops tumbling down from the sky, kissing the soaked earth. Sickly grey clouds swirled and intertwined into the night sky to create a foul cauldron of deathly hues of grey and black.

He had promised him that he'd be here. Draco – his love. But as he sat patiently in the empty room he couldn't help but feel he had been stood up. As he brushed his calloused leaf out of the way, he sighed and resumed to observing the fierce storm outside.

He waited. He waited until his eyelids began to droop and the storm had long since passed. The air felt cold to his thin peel coating. Maybe he had gone to the wrong room? He slowly rolled out of the room, straining his ears for the sound of incoming footsteps. His ears were met with nothing, nothing but the quiet hiss of air and the gravelly sound of his body creating friction with the debris on the ground.

Unsure of where to go, Apple began to aimlessly meander through the many hallways of Hogwarts, steering clear of any particularly sharp objects that could otherwise cut and bruise his clear, untouched skin. As he rolled past one particular door, he heard a faint squelching sound. He paused, curious but still cautious.

As he turned, he noticed the door was slightly ajar but not enough to effectively see beyond into the room behind. With bated breath he crept forward, cringing at the rustling he elicited from his clumsy bottom. The door let out an unimaginable creak as he nudged it further open. The sight that met his eyes would haunt him until his expiry date.

Hunched over a rotting, splintering wooden table was Draco. His eyes were horrifying. His pupils had constricted into tiny pinpricks that pulsated rhythmically and his left eyelid twitched jerkily. The sheer wideness of his stare spoke of insanity beyond what Apple had ever witnessed. His mouth was frozen into a perpetual open mouthed grin with glistening saliva trailing down his thin chapped lips in spiky lines. His form swayed with his haggard, erratic breathing. Every breath was slow and deep, the air making a hollow hissing tone as it scraped the insides of this throat like daggers. The platinum shade of his hair had broken from its usual pristine slick form and instead splattered haphazardly against his sweating forehead, masking away a third of his right eye.

This vision wouldn't have struck such a tone with Apple had it not been for the enormity of the situation; clenched tightly – so tightly his knuckles were white – in his right hand was a sleek carving knife. The bade shimmered in the distant moonlight and glimmer of Draco's eyes. And the deathly sharp blade was pierced deeply into Orange. Its form was lifeless and pathetically bleeding, seeping orange juice onto the table, pooling and spilling onto the stone floor below. Entrails and skin was clearly visible from the fatal incision. Even now, Draco strained to pierce deeper, twisting the blade harshly as his lips quivered into an impossibly larger grin.

Without regard for his own position, Apple screamed. The sight of mangled Orange grew too much for him, and his mind was clouded with an insufferable smog, screaming for the loss of his one and only friend. Upon his scream, Draco turned.

"Orange's so much prettier like this don't you think?" His voice was hysterical and an abnormally high pitch. "But you wouldn't know. You only have eyes for me, don't you? Your lover." His voice drew out the word 'lover' slowly, his accent mocking.

"Orange didn't understand our love. He got in the way. But it's alright now. Problem solved right, A-ah-ple?" He finished, voice breaking at the last syllable of 'Apple'

Apple gazed on in horror and distraught.

A flicker of an unreadable emotion flashed across Draco's eyes. "You weren't being unfaithful were you? A-ah-ple."

Draco yanked the knife out of Orange, creating a disturbing wet, squelching sound. Orange's corpse fell sideways, concaving with his hollow innards. The sticky orange fluid bathed his coarse skin like a halo. The remnants of murder on the blade trickled down onto Draco's hand, leaving stickiness that would be impervious to water. Accusatory evidence for the terrible sin he had committed.

Slowly, with heavy, drunken footsteps, Draco advanced towards Apple.

Fearing for his life, Apple retreated backwards, closer to the door. His skin shined with sweat and tears.

"What's wrong Apple? We're lovers aren't we?" Draco teased, his maniac eyes trained on Apple's blushed skin.

"It'll be fine. I lo-" Draco's taunt was interrupted by the abrupt opening of the door. The door pushed Apple along with it as it rotated. The strength at which it's opener had exerted slammed the door sharply against the wall. The loud sound of the impact ricocheted in the small room. Into Draco's ears repeatedly, taunting, accusing him. In between the thick door and the crumbling walls were the splattered remains of what once was Apple. The door had churned Apple's innards into a sickly green lumpy mixture that clung to the wall. Shards of skin contrasted among the goo, clearly identifiable to Apple.

In the doorway of the slaughter stood a familiar brunette; "Draco – merlin's beard – sorry I did it again. On accident of course; I mean you ate the spiked chocolates. Let me… Draco? Are you okay?" Hermione mumbled, pausing as she saw Draco.

He was sprawled on the floor, hands grasping at what he could of Apple. As his hands returned sticky and tinted green, he placed them directly in front of his eyes and starred in horror. Lurching forwards, he threw up into the remains his beloved's body. Shaking with the exertion of vomiting, and the colossal psychological impact of murdering on the man he loved, he failed to hear the calls of worry from the female witch. He failed to respond to her calls even as she slapped his sheet white cheeks. Even after she had administered the antidote, he continued to stare forward. Empty. The regret seeped into his extremities and ate away at his heart. What had he done?


End file.
